


A step of another kind

by Afloatingsubmariner (orphan_account)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Feels, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, FrostIron - Freeform, In Public, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki disguised as Tom Hiddleston, M/M, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post Avengers, Protective Avengers, Protective Pepper Potts, References to the High-Line, Science Bros, Secret Relationship, Teleportation, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Transformation, Waltzing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Afloatingsubmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has started as a game, then it became a recreation. Some kind of ritual they enjoy doing for the sake of it. They forget themselves just for a dance. But tonight is different and sometimes it takes a different step to change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jumping inside the black hole

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired from the movie Madame de... of Max Ophüls (1953). If you enjoy old romantic tales about love, appearances, truth and lies, I recommend you this movie. Thank you Reikan Kinetsu for your brilliant analysis of it which guides me for the story. Thank you Wrecked-anon for your advices and your help as a beta.  
> This work is not completely beta read and fully edited yet, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> This my first fanfiction ever posted. I hope I won't disappoint you. Enjoy !

 

 

 

“NBC flashing news!”  

“A brutal assault occurred at 8 am! Many trains derailed in Manhattan…we suspect the escaped criminal…”

“…Salvo of explosions put underground, probably triggered by remote control!”

“Avengers have just arrived to help! The damages and number of victims still remain…”

“The enemy has been neutralized this afternoon thanks to the Avengers! It seems X-men have assisted them. Unfortunately we have no pictures to testify…”

“We roughly estimate hundreds of people died in those bombings…”

“New York’s mayor announces his wish to organize a party in a few days for celebrating the umpteenth Avengers’ victory!”

“I believe it will be the best occasion to gather additional funds so as to help injured civilians.”

“People need entertainment and fun. The atmosphere had been so depressing lately…I hope it would lighten the general mood a little.”

 

“I thought of creating a new brand, Tony. You know, toys for children, based on the weapons your team carry. Models will be selling during the soirée. What do you think? It may be helpful, if we need to raise more money for all the collateral damages…”

 

“Tony, are you listening to me?”  

 

 

 ***

 

  

Tony is straightening his shirt and tightening up his tie around his throat when JARVIS’s voice reverberates from the ceiling.

“Sir, the drivers you had called, arrived. You are expected in your garage.”

“Thanks, JARV’.”

Despite general calming, the whole aftermath had worn Tony out. As usual, he counted on Steve to take care of everything, releasing himself on the good captain so he could slip out of this event. His hands shake from the lack of activity, eager to be useful, like drafting blueprints of remote neutralizing bombs.

The imaginary sensation of sinking in his seat makes him smile. In the middle of his workshop, lulled by music tracks, specially chosen for him by JARVIS, he would have drawn sophisticated shapes fitting together, listed different materials he could use and perhaps even designed one or two prototypes. Instead, he must face his own mournful reflection in a mirror hanging on his closet. Alone, in his bedroom, acid lightning cut bags of shadows on his face as if it was marred from the fight.

He rubs his aching neck, scowling at a pile of papers accumulated on his chest of drawers. A pompous speech was written on them, spread on hollowed sentences.

In a few hours, in front of his autocue, Tony will have to smile forcefully to a crowd of awkward people, not directly concerned nor physically harmed by these accidents. They would applaud, suspended to each and every word escaping from his mouth. He would frown, catching a bunch of whining kids, stamping in front of by-products stands and arguing over a toy shield or hammer. Only wet and disapproving glare of Steve would bring him back to reality. Reminding him of his duty like a stinging slap.

Children are still anesthetized. 

 

Tony mechanically hooks up his watch on his wrist.

One notch.

Steve’s warm hands, as hard as steel, had grasped his shoulders, freezing him instantly. His square jaw, usually determined, had trembled, under the influence of emotion. It would have been unnoticed by anyone but not by Tony who knew by heart all kind of his leader’s gestures.

Two notches.

“I know you don’t like it but tonight I want everybody to make an effort.” His blue eyes had bored into Tony’s, completely paralysed by the cold perspicacity emanating from his gaze. “Nothing weird with _him_ will happen, understood?”

Three notches.

“Bastard…”

 

Tony locks the last valve of his chain, wrapped too tightly around his bone. JARVIS’s dehumanized voice sings out for the second time.

“Sir, Miss Potts is trying to reach you.”

“Accept her call.”

“Tony.”

Pepper’s voice delivers softness yet her shimmering posture in the holographic display conveys to adopt a very serious demeanour. She requires a complete attention though Tony refuses to face her directly, watching her reflection in his mirror instead.

“Miss Potts, what can I do for you?”

“Tony.” She sighs. “Please, be careful during the soirée.”

“Thor won’t be there, I really don’t understand why you’re so worried.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Steve already knows what you’re doing and I suspect Natasha to realize something sooner or later.”

Tony’s jacket flaps curtly against his back. He notes she has flexed three fingers of her right hand, the same hand she used sometimes to smooth his dishevelled hair before important events. He finally deigns to turn over, only to take a comb with sharped teeth, smoothing his hair himself. His expression has hardened. Tony smiles at Pepper yet recesses of his mouth have lost their lovely tenderness he had before. She looks slightly pained and lowers her eyes.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Pep. We’ll see each other at Malibu, tomorrow, as predicted. Ok? ”

She opens her mouth as if to say something but bites her lips and assesses, defeated. Then, her reflection explodes in numerous bright particles. Tony keeps staring at the emptiness she left behind her for long minutes. He smacked his cheeks with both hands so as to regain his composure.

“This is gonna work.”

“Of course, sir.” Pips Jarvis. “Have a nice evening.”

 

 

 *** 

 

  

“Park my beauty as far away as possible from the others, got it?”

Happy nods and slams the car door. Tony moves forward and casts a glance behind his shoulder, checking if his chauffeur was following his instructions. Suddenly, Barton, swiftly pats his arm, a mischievous smile hung on his face. In this situation, Tony could almost forget his left arm was immobilised in plaster cast.

“Already planning to go away with a smoking hot girl?”

“Sailors Mars.” Greets Tony. “Stick your eagle eye out of my business.”

“Nice. Never heard that one before. She shot arrows, too?”

“ _Fiery arrows_ , Barton. Go back home and review your classics.”

“If someone told me one day I would see two superheroes fighting over a girly Japanese cartoon, I would’ve never believed it.” Intoned Bruce behind their backs.

He travelled in the same limousine as Barton yet has taken much more time to join them. His visible cheerfulness hardly masks his physical weariness. All Bruce’s movements seem slowed down, his muscles glued. A wave of annoyance seizes Tony.

_Here comes someone who should’ve stayed home._

“Harley’s sis forced me to watch the episodes.” Tony mumbles.

“And read volumes too.” Barton teases.

“At first, I thought it was freaking weird, especially animation of characters. But…I realized it was hot to watch babes fighting in mini-skirt.”

“Then, mystery is solved for Tony.” Bruce chuckles. “You’ve not explained your case yet, Clint.”

“Some questions will always remain unanswered, doc.” Barton hastens to conclude before joining Natasha, driving down from the second limousine, accompanied by Steve.

Tony feels a pang in his heart once he sets his eyes on him. Their leader seems weighed down under tiredness. Despite heavy layers of make-up, his skin looks white as a sheet. His limping walk points out how his wounded thigh still burdens him. Natasha, lips pursued in concentration, doesn’t let him out of her sight. Barton gets closer to help once the pair staggers dangerously on the side. He straightens up Steve by taking his free flank without leaning on his injured arm so the captain’s whole weight doesn’t crush Natasha. Their leader smiles shyly to them, which they reciprocate.

Tony and Bruce, left behind, keep gazing upon this peculiar sight without saying anything. Natasha and Steve greet them with a nod before getting into the stairwell, bodyguards on their heels, one of them carrying a crutch. Some press agents follow the trio’s trail, silent before their mute grief.

_Damn, I almost forgot those morons._

Bruce presses abruptly his shoulder against Tony’s. He whispers.

“I know he’s not demonstrative but he’s very glad you came. Too bad Thor couldn’t…”

“He should’ve stayed to SHIELD’s base, recharging his batteries.” Tony cuts him off, coldly. “He looks like a corpse. You too, by the way.”

Bruce shrugs, that simple gesture seems to cost him a superhuman effort. An overwhelming twinge of panic takes Tony by surprise as if he still expects his friend to faint, cold on the floor and inanimate for a few days. Like it happened at the end of their last battle. Bruce, though, carries on:

“You know Steve. He takes his role very seriously, always others first before him. New York’s mayor admires his courage, you know?”

Tony snorts.

_He loves playing martyr, that’s all._

“I think it’s a very positive message for the victims, showing even people like us have weaknesses we can heal.”

Tony grates his teeth.

“There won’t be any victim tonight, Bruce. Goddamn it!”

“Tony. Don’t start again…” Bruce pleads.

“No, no, no, no. You know what? I’ll tell you exactly who’s gonna be there. Crying parents, assholes journalists asking them how bad it hurts to have their children in hospital and unharmed viewers enjoying the show with handkerchiefs. I fucking hate it!”

“Not everybody is cynical like you, Tony. I’m sure most of people are genuinely concerned for the families.” Bruce says in a measured tone.

He glances at Tony.

“You’re not the only one who wishes it has turned differently.”

Tony swallows painfully and blinks several times while designs of remote neutralizing bombs keep swirling inside of his head alongside of sleeping figures no one could wake up. Bruce smiles at him, contrite. He seems to hesitate before tugging his sleeve. The both of them are now walking to the same stairwell Natasha, Steve and Barton have taken minutes before.

“I know what you’re thinking but you’re gonna disregard it tonight. You promised.” Bruce lightly quips.

Relief washes over Tony’s body.

“You heard the man, big guys!”

Remaining bodyguards look at each other, incredulous.

“Let’s follow the guide!” Tony laughs, encircling Bruce’s waist languorously, fluttering his eyelashes. “I feel too weak to resist him.”

Bruce giggles with an arched eyebrow. He hits playfully the back of Tony’s head, taking him to the third floor where Avengers’ speech should take place. Tony deeply breathes in.

 

_It’s almost over. No, it’s already over. You can mope about at Malibu. Think of Pepper, think of your workshop and Jack Daniels. Especially Jack Daniels._

 

 

  *** 

 

  

“What’s that?” Natasha asks disdainfully.

Her accusatory finger points out a notice inserted between wine glass and water glass. Tony hasn’t paid any attention to it. Starters were still lying warmly on the table. His gaze roams the whole room in a circular way. Waiters obviously assigned this sign to every guest. Barton shrugs.

“Dunno.”

“You use it to mark your dance-partners’ names” Bruce says, turning the paper over. “Like some kind of reservation.”

“What?” Barton shouts. “We’re supposed to dance?”

“Seems yes.” Natasha adds, indifferent to his turmoil. “I suppose it’s an idea of organizers to please Steve. We may waltz like in ancient times.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Steve mumbles, blushing. “During the war, we danced on different kinds of music. Those guys know nothing.”

“I hate dancing.” Barton mutters.

“You won’t attract many people tonight with your left arm, don’t worry.” Natasha dryly says. “Too bad only waltzes are allowed, though. I would have liked to dance java or Charleston.”

A belly laugh bursts behind Tony’s back. Each Avenger turns around, all senses in alert.  They relax when they recognize the main organizer who regally ignores all masculine members of the team, focusing his attention on Natasha and especially her triangular cleavage. The sinister man with reddening and greasy face touches their partner’s shoulder lovingly. The striking contrast between his hand similar of a crab’s claw and the softness of Natasha white opal skin makes Tony shudder in disgust.

_This guy is dead for sure._

Tension is palpable at Avengers’ table yet the organizer doesn’t shy away from it.

“What’s so funny?” Natasha glares at him.

“Well, it’s surprising for a woman like you to know those dances, born in France. Between tiring missions, it must be difficult to find time educating yourself.”

“I’m a master at deceiving people.”

The organizer moistens his lips and bows his bald head.

“I hope you will be pleased, miss Romanoff, to learn that I reserved all my waltzes with you.”

Tony suffocates in his drink while Natasha’s eyes wrinkle dangerously.

“And if I refuse?”

“Miss! You’ve got the right to dance with whomever you want as long as you indicate it on your notice. Allow me.”

_Egghead’s not serious?_

Natasha’s fingers catch his offended wrist and pinch it. The organizer complains but her disarming smile stops him.

“It won’t be necessary.” Natasha purrs in a sensual voice, her eyelids half-closes. “I’ll dance with you for the first waltz. This way, I can check if you’re such a good dancer.”

“ _Mademoiselle_ , I won’t disappoint you.”

He bows a second time then goes away, rubbing his hands enthusiastically.

“What a moron” Tony mumbles, aggravated.

He realizes, in astonishment, that Steve’s body was extremely tensed. A soft murmur blew in his ear from Natasha, slackens him immediately. He sighs, pleased. Tony swears he’s even seen his cheeks turning pink. Natasha adjusts her braces’ dress and declares in a distant way:

“Bruce, I’m gonna dance all the waltzes with you.”

“Natasha, I…I don’t think.” Bruce stutters, his gaze wandering between Steve and Barton.

“We’ll dance together.” Natasha firmly assures. “And no one will mind it.”

The two embarrassed men, surrounding her, assent. Once they finish eating their first courses, dozen of waiters succeed each other. They clear plates and put main courses on the table, hidden under cloche.

 

Remains of the meal take place without interruption. Conversations flow one by one, rolling with simplicity. Any form of uneasiness disappears. Steve heatedly talks about some anecdotes from World War Two under Natasha’s affectionate gaze, resting her chin against Barton’s throat. Each time she giggles, Tony notices the man startling, as if tickled by her hot breath. Bruce stays in the background, silent but paying close attention of every reaction of the trio. Shaping his complicated dynamics. He shares a smile of complicity with Tony as soon as he catches sight of an intimate gesture. Leaning indolently on the table, Tony would waggle his eyebrows in answer and Bruce would try to control his laughter. A satisfied grin stretches Tony’s burning cheeks. He authorizes himself to drink another swallow of wine.

In his other hand, he fiddles with his notice where a dainty invisible feather traces in a perfect handwriting the name of a single person. For all the waltzes. He clenches the paper against his warm thigh.

 

 

*** 

  

 

“Amanda, I keep trying to tell you, I don’t want to dance!”

“My name’s Ally!” A young brunet replies, stuck to his arm since the first waltz started.

Tony, exasperated, attempts to get rid of her grip, searching desperately the person supposed to dance with him. Annie or Anita, anyway probably a senator’s daughter too spoiled for her own good, persists to pull his sleeve. Impatience gains him in full force. Tony restrains himself not to use anger against her.

“Oh, please, mister Stark, just one dance!” She pouts.

“It’s a big no, sweetheart.”

Tony grabs her manicured hands to take them off his jacket.

“And don’t call me mister.” He adds, vaguely peeved.

“Can I call you Tony, then?” She joyously exclaims, clasping her hands together.

“Neither. Listen, go back to your father, ok?”

“But it’s always the same! I’m tired to dance with my old man each time we’re invited somewhere!”

Tony, furious, is ready to fling distasteful words at the impertinent teenager but Steve, kind as ever, intervenes.

“Miss, why are you so angry?”

“Oh! Captain Rogers! My apologies, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Her voice’s tone gets transformed for unknown reasons. Softened by enchantment, the fierce teenager became docile. Ashamed and blushing, she lowers her gaze.

_She is far much better like that._

“I just wanted to have some fun.” She mutters.

“No problem, miss. If you want that so badly, I could stay at your side.”

“What?” She says, surprised. “I don’t understand…”

“I’m grounded, because of my wound. No dancing for me tonight which means you could keep me company.”

The glowing girl accepts and runs back to her father so as to announce good news. Steve heavily pressed on his crutch, chuckles, his eyes sparkling in mirth. 

“Tony Stark, invincible Iron Man, floored by a kid.”

“No comment, Rogers.”

The two men set down on two chairs near the buffet. Steve dares to look Tony directly in his eyes for the first time since the meal started.

“Thank you.”

“ _I_ should be the one thanking you.” Tony snickers. “You saved me from a hormonal teen.”

“You know it’s not what I’m talking about.”

Suddenly too self-conscious of the turning point in their conversation, Tony scratches his ear.

“You’re welcome, even if in my humble opinion, we should have waited the team was completely healed before celebrating.”

“Families needed it.” Steve retorts, solemn.

“I know, I know but that whole context there…the atmosphere, the organization and stuff, it gets on my nerves.”

Tony rises abruptly from his chair and gets a champagne flute on the fly from a waitress’ platter. He drinks the whole beverage in one motion.

“Yeah, me too.” Steve nods. “But, at least, I tell myself it would mean something for people who really need it even if we have to bear…”

In a sweeping gesture, he shows the gathering crowd.

“That stupid masquerade?” Tony offers, gazing at his empty glass.

“Exactly.” Steve concludes, letting out a sigh melting the heart.

 

He takes a cocktail, sipping it under Tony’s bemused expression. The two men lounge on their seats, appraising the silence settling down between them. They stay still for long minutes, listening to music slowly rising into the air. Pairs keep waltzing around them. Tony observes with satisfaction Bruce and Natasha dancing together while Barton watches them. Aware of their every move. On the other side of the room, the organizer’s face is twisted in pain, his walk comparable to a penguin. Steve’s mocking lips creases at the sight until his eyes are tinted in the coldest blue Tony has ever seen. He furiously indicates someone in the crowd, his jaw contracting in anger. Tony guesses easily who could arouse such a strong reaction from his leader. Sooner, he saw green eyes gleaming among guest’s ones. His feet don’t obey him anymore. He stands up eager to meet his dance-partner yet Steve seizes his arm.

 

“Tony, what are you doing? Care to explain?”

“If it can reassure you, I haven’t invited the bastard.”

“It’s not the first time it’s happening. You always run away with him each time he shows up. Why?”

“Steve, I’m responsible of nothing. There is no game here.”

“Don’t take me for a moron. You start that same nonsense once the fights are all over. I don’t get it…Are you enjoying to test your limits in private?”

Steve’s despising accusation discharges in Tony like a bitter liquid. Little patience he tried to conceal snaps in two.

“I know what you’re insinuating, Rogers.” Tony snarls in a low voice. “And I repeat myself, I’m not concerned by any of this.”

Tony roughly clears his taken arm and moves away in long steps. His dance-partner was long gone when he looks for him. Steve catches him again. The anguish he harbours makes Tony slowing down.

“I trust you Tony.” Steve assures, obliging. “But…”

“No, _you_ believe I’m dumb enough to be fooled by him. As if I could forget all his half-assed plans.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve insists, more pleading. “Tony, please. Stop moving! We had never talked about it before… Of what I saw this night.”

“No discussion. Is that clear Rogers? I already know what you think of him, you know what I think of him. End of the story.”

“It’s wrong.” His leader frowns. “You’ve always found a way to sneak off the conversation. Now, I’m gonna ask you again for the last time. What do you think about Loki?”

 

Hearing his name is enough to shush Tony. He attempts to speak yet no sound slips from his mouth. Million words clash together in his mind, willing to describe him as precisely as possible. No one strikes with sheer clarity. In the past, Tony had approved of everything Steve claimed about their common enemy. He was the first to advocate complete distrust with regard to Loki. Too many variables, too much lack of consistence in his behaviour. Absolutely not reliable.  The sorcerer was as murky as an evasive smoke. You could only make out his silhouette, shaking ghosts of past bitterness and desires, deeply rooted in the character he embodies. It was reasonable to not grow attached to him. To avoid him at any cost, even if his link to Thor had involved him in many paths Avengers took.

 

Yet.

 

That same mist he is made of, that unstable substance affecting his entire environment without altering him in return perpetually attracts Tony to Loki. Discerning edges of the illusions he projects kindle a guilty pleasure in his veins though he strives to display an outward visceral rejection in front of everyone. Loki is as fascinating as all those theories engulfing black holes. They incite a subtle combination of dread and marvel inside Tony’s mind, the powerful crawling in humility crushed by true strength of nature. Their blurred majesty, this whirlwind of dead stars’ particles inspires a profound and ancestral fear of unknown. Of emptiness. They could deploy in endless questioning, possibly leading to nothing. The desire to lose oneself in their twists and turns itches uncontrollably as if choosing to give in to that infinite spatial landscape was the ultimate test of courage.

Loki’s impish gaze becomes more and more detectable in the crowd. Tony can distinguish the appearance he opted for. As soon as he comes closer to him, Tony neglects details in his field of vision. He cannot remember the room’s true dimensions nor make the difference between music and tumult of chatting and laughter. Guests dim like floating colours. He loses dancing steps’ rhythm hammering the floor though he was able to count them before. Steve’s wrath rumbles in his back. And Tony thanks all living deities that Barton focuses on Natasha and Bruce’s intertwined bodies; that Thor went back to Asgard because Loki is too easily recognizable.

 

 


	2. Finding the secret place

It’s impossible to mistake that by anything other than provocation. Only colour and size of his mane has changed from slender raven-haired to short, curly and blond, bestowing a fake angelic touch to his aura. Distance between Tony and Loki grows negligible, their bodies brushing. An open, long and white hand extends to him. 

“Mister Stark, I’m under the belief you owe me a few dances.”

Despite the growing panic and the racket buzzing in his ears, Tony tightly clenches Loki’s hand and yanks him against his torso. A spark of challenge glittering in his eyes. Steve scowls then interposes himself between them. Tony gapes, words of protestation banging at his lips for getting out.

_The guts of that man, I can’t believe it!_

Loki hasn’t raised his eyebrows but he slowly withdraws his hand.

“Captain Rogers.” He icily says. Tony believes nothing could be colder than that.

“Loki” Steve replies, his body as stiff as wood.

“Pardon me but it seems you’re blocking my way. Besides, that young lady over there is waiting for you.”

Tony looks in the direction Loki pointed out. The brunet teenager is seated on a chair, watching worriedly the entire scene. Tony rocks on one foot then on the other. His gaze flickers between dancing figures. Impression of myriad eyes aimed at him, furiously prickles his skin. He loosens his collar then touches Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on, I take control of everything. If he makes bullshit, I’ll kick his ass.”

Loki roars with laughter as if Tony physically defeating him was the most ludicrous idea he’s ever had. Tony frowns, his cheeks burning in humiliation.

“Are you finished, bastard?” He snaps.

Loki wipes his eyes, ounce of humour still radiating on his face. He softly smiles. Tony’s heart misses a beat when Loki tenderly caresses his hand. Openly. In front of a dumbfounded Steve.

“It was brief but very enjoyable. Farewell, captain.”

Tony decides to end that awkward meeting as fast as possible by pushing Loki forward him but Steve rarely agrees with anything he does.

“If you ever hurt him…”

“I would be much worried for your two _partners_ if I were you.” Loki cuts him off, honey dripping from his voice.

Tony has the brusque desire to check if Natasha and Barton were safe in Bruce’s company. He sighs in relief when he spots them waltzing in the farthest left corner of the room. Steve’s hands are so tightly clenched that Tony fears his phalanxes would pierce his skin. He looks daggers at Loki, disgust emanating from his face. No red patches show on his skin, which was a very bad sign usually. Loki hasn’t moved a muscle; on the other hand, green sparkles appear at his frenzied fingertips.

“You’re lucky I trust Tony and there is too many people around us because I swear I would have punched you.” He whispers, detaching syllables from each other.

“Have a nice evening, Captain.” Loki replies in the same tone.

 

Tony roundly goes away, catching Loki’s wrist. He doesn’t dare to look behind him; the burning sensation on his neck indicates in what state he left Steve. Once they mingle in the crowd, as far away as possible from the Avengers, Loki’s chest pressed against his.

“My, he is quite edgy tonight, isn’t he?” He asks, jeering. “It’s surprising.”

“Whose fault, genius? You love to shit things up.”

“You must recognize his reactions are always entertaining.”

“I’m the only one who can annoy him.” Tony cheekily says, his nose high in the air. “Get in line.”

Loki rolls his eyes then leans to lay a chaste kiss on his ear, fleeting like a blow. Tony shivers. His arm encircles tightly the deity’s waist. He suddenly finds Loki’s shirt very interesting to stare at.

“Easy there Reindeer games, I know you’re all set but this time I take the lead.”

“As you wish.”

The softness weaved in his words surprises Tony who raises his eyes to meet his, immediately regretting it. He cannot untie his gaze from countless hues of blue, green and yellow his irises were overflowing with.

 

 

***

 

 

Lights’ intensity of the room diminishes. Atmosphere becomes unreal. Bright fragments from New Yorker towers seep into bay windows, scattering rectangular and shimmering colours on dancing silhouettes. Bodies are cut in fine slivers of lights and shadows clashing against each other. Luminous reflections vibrate like a sea shaking by soothing waves.

Tony feels as if he doesn’t weigh anything anymore as the room swirls around him. His arm gently soothes Loki’s back. In spite of music’s rhythm, the pair slows down his pace. Tony’s fingertips repeatedly draw his partner’s shoulder blades at different speeds. His fleeting fingers elicit jolts in Loki’s palm Tony preciously holds in his other free hand. Suddenly, Loki’s digits decide to climb on his neck and start drumming, getting tangled up in brown locks in the process. Then, they slide in his back, walking along the shorter man’s flank before lying against his stomach. Tony tightens his muscles in reaction. Loki’s eyes gleam instantaneously, a gasp escaping his slightly open lips. Tony clears his throat when he sees a clavicle’s curve appearing under the collar he is stuck to.

Loki’s feline hand caresses his belly, pressing against each crevice and bulge created by his muscle structure. Tony stifles a moan in response. Loki’s hand goes down and down with insufferable slowness. Seconds of an imaginary countdown, tick in Tony’s mind, in harmony with waltz’s ¾ time. Gradually, rigidity in his body vanishes layer by layer, first his muscles then his bones. Mischievous fingers graze a burgeoning erection.

However, in the dark, vicious luminosity of a piercing gaze looking hard at him makes Tony startle. Terror present in those blue eyes extinguishes the dawning fire in his guts. That damned sensual hand, unaware of Tony’s paralysis worms herself to his belt. Tony grasps and holds her where she was supposed to be, in mid-air.

 

Tony avoids Loki’s eyes desperately searching for his. By a dorsal motion, he tries to shorten the gapping distance Tony persists to maintain, determined not to cross it again. He keeps frustrating Loki’s advances until he cannot take it anymore. Forces reverse their roles. Turbulence circles Tony in its mad dash. He is unable to control his movements. The room smashes in subdivisions of light and astounding contrasts. There is neither high nor low. Loki’s cold breath whipping his face, smell of his skin intoxicating his senses, are the only tangible reality Tony can hold onto. Grace of dancing disappears. Rhythm becomes erratic. The chaotic waltz now looks like a saraband. Tony clings on Loki as strongly as he can, almost scratching his back inadvertently but it only arouses the flesh bond to his. He sees everything by flashes. Messy hair. White glistening skin. Loki covers his face with looks the intensity petrifies him. Tearing each fragment of his face open. Tony feels like he was devoured by thousand of hungry eyes.

He gives a slight step back but Loki forces him to join in with the rhythm he chose. Cloistered in his arms. Tony fights back for their private parts rub together with too much vigour, inciting a pleasurable reaction in his member and setting his lower abdomen in fire. Fury deforms Loki’s delicate features. His hands threaten to tear Tony’s jacket. He manages to mutter, through his panting:

“Still not letting me go?”

“No.” Loki retorts, grating his teeth.

 

A moment of clarity lights up in Tony’s indolent conscience. He undulates his hips against his partner’s powerful waist. Loki bites his lips in pleasure and imitates the gesture. They become two waves united by one impulse. Sensation of getting detached from his body numbs Tony as if he is contemplating the scene from afar. He cannot see his hands or his feet. Movement and rhythmic are dominating him completely.

 

1, 2, 3.

 

They move to the right, then, to the left. Hips still rolling against each other.

 

1, 2, 3.

 

Both of them dance in circles. Tony reckons the best way to create a perfect circular perimeter.

 

1, 2, 3.

 

The circles gets smaller and smaller until Tony and Loki spin around. Again. And again.

 

Curiosity awakes Tony from his sleep. In spite of the fog invading his brain, he tries to see in a window what kind of looks they could receive. Astonished, he realizes everybody has gone. His stop breaks Loki’s trance. They both stumble. Musicians keep playing for them, the last dancers. Tony walks to them. He finds he could still formulate words:

“Hey guys!” He speaks to them, shaking. “Sorry we’ve kept you for so long. You can leave now.”

They rush haphazardly to an exit door, after having tidy up their instrument in black cases. However some of them took the time to bid Loki and Tony goodbye before closing the door.

 

The two men remain alone. Lights switch off one by one. Engulfed in dark, Loki presses his cheek against Tony’s and kisses him. They nestle against each other, still speechless of what had transpired tonight.

 

 

***

 

 

Silence glides inside of Tony’s car. Loki and him haven’t exchanged words since they left the hotel together. Tony headed, checking in each corridor if no one followed them nor spotted them. In the dark, Loki had changed his disguise to his real appearance. He had taken Tony’s shivering hand and let himself be guided. The engineer’s strong fingers had refused to embrace Loki’s white palm.

_He would like to make me believe I am responsible of everything. Asshole…_

Happy hadn’t even glanced at them when they closed the car’s door behind him. In the eyes of Tony, it was worse than everything. It looked like a tacit agreement to authorize them to do anything they wanted while accusing Tony and his partner at the same time. _I dare you to make out behind my back._ Tony translated his behaviour this way. And Loki still hadn’t released his hand.

“Boss, what ride this time?”

Tony startles. Many possibilities fight over the first place in his mind. Which one is the longest? The less dangerous? The one, which would attract less attention? His calculations of distance and duration meet an obstacle and fall down. He lost time with Loki by spending it thinking. The, he blurts:

“To the High-Line.”

Loki stares at him, incredulous.

“It’s closed since a long time. It’s 3 am.” Happy sighs.

“So what? A small violation won’t hurt anyone.” Tony retorts, playfully.

Loki keeps fixing his gaze on him, hoping he would get an answer through sheer force of will. A shy and amused smile appears on Tony’s face, his eyes bound to their intertwined hands. As if he still needs to see so he can believe this strange situation is real. Here he is, seated on his backseat, next to Loki. What could have driven him to do something like this? He fought to never cross that limit but the idea to introduce the deity in his familiar and intimate territory had strongly stimulated him. Tony is making a unique experience, completely surrealistic, and frightening, pushing him over the edge.

_Why not?_

At that moment, he gives in a sweet weakness. His fingers clutch Loki’s, finer and smoother. Emotion and surprise, legible in his gaze, lavish Tony, more than the sensation of a second hand resting on his.

 

 

***

 

 

Tony takes off his shoes and his sockets. He wanted to feel cool grass under his feet. The High-Line uncoil powerful and melancholic in front of them, calling them in a motherly shout to move forward, always moving forward. Maybe running to that unknown destination point where they both blindly find their way. Loki walk around, to the right, to the left, leaning on the railing, glancing indifferently at a bunch of drunkards swaying in the street under the bridge. Tony opens his arms and swells his chest. Fresh air revives him from that unhealthy tension which weighed so much on his shoulders during the dance and chased him in the car.

At last.

Loki and Tony were far from everything else. Tony would never spoiled Happy enough to let them taste this instant. Stars in the sky painfully shine in the sky, ousted by dazzling lights from the New Yorker towers. Loki, appealed by Tony’s childish relaxation, comes closer to him.

“He is not that high, this suspended bridge.” He says, in a nonchalant tone.

There is no despising in his voice. He is merely calling for his attention. Tony answers immediately to his expectations.

“I haven’t thanked you to teleport us here.”

_And making us invisible to other’s gazes._

Yet, Tony doesn’t want to add that. Loki had showed alarming impatience’ signals when he begged him to do it. Tonight, it wasn’t about exposing themselves to mock the world and his rules. Spending time together was enough to reduce in ashes a lot of boundaries. Loki shrugs.

“It’s a very simple spell. When I was a child, I used to execute it, whenever I wanted to wander outside the palace.”

“Really?”

An enigmatic smile stretches on Loki’s lips. The two men start walking together, their steps brushing wild grass and bland planks. Their conversation flows in a whisper.

“What is this place?”

“Well, it was a project of urban renewal in the first place. They wanted to refurbish disused rails, old from the 19th century. In the end it became an ecologic park.  A new type of green way. It enables New York’s nature to regenerate a little bit more. Making new things out of old.”

Loki nods. He adds, pensive:

“It’s true you don’t feel time the same way.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean that everything surrounding you, mortals, change in such a high speed. Even Midgard’s nature ages faster.”

“So, I can assume there is not a lot of renovation works in Asgard.”

Loki sneers yet Tony notices his lips have quivered slightly.

“Our civilisation is perfect from the beginning, why would we change it?” He snarls.

Tony stands speechless in front of such an answer. He is convinced this quote is not from him but he can’t help finding a remembrance in those words, matching with everything Thor said about his homeland. How could a place like this exist? Unchanging, motionless, at its zenith since its birth? In those moments, Tony could sense with clarity how deep the ravine keeps him separated from Loki. He jumps over it insolently. His arms encircle Loki’s back. He dives his nose into his shoulder blades. Loki’s dorsal muscles slacken under his ministrations. His shy and diaphanous fingers mingle with Tony’s.

_As usual, he is expecting me to make the first move._

A pleased sigh escapes from Loki’s lips when Tony softly caresses them with his forefinger. A furtive tongue licks his fingertip then catches him, trapping him in a wet cave. Tony bites Loki’s shirt to smother a moan. Weed’s coolness under his feet, powerless, gives in that intense and electrifying heat, dissipating in his nervous system. Blood rushes in his cheeks. He suddenly giggles when the trickster’s mouth swallow three of his fingers. Greedily sucking them, tasting them like children do with candies.

“Hey! Don’t eat up my hand, I still need it.”

Loki tilts his head back and smirks at him. Tony takes advantage of it and frees his wet hand from the deity’s mouth. Wickedly, he brings her to his lips. Green and enraptured eyes follow his motion. Tony kisses each of his fingers, his frank gaze meeting Loki’s longing look. His impatient and white hands cup his warm face.

Tony gulps with difficulty. He is under the impression Loki could see everything working inside of his body, even the tiniest muscles squeezed in his throat.

 

Tony closes his eyes.

 

He jumps when cold lips capture his own. The engineer’s hands are disorientated for the first time of their life, not knowing what tool they could use, to trigger what kind of reaction. They grope around in the dark, grazing a belly, then a languid chest and finally scratching tendons of a ravishing neck. The searing kiss makes it more complicated for his hands to focus on anything. Mapping the deity’s body is the hardest task they have to accomplish. Tony’s hot tongue sweeps in Loki’s mouth, entangling to his colder one. Both of them slide in their scorching cavities.

Cold hands come to life and scurry on Tony’s body. Each part of him is won over, ravished by them. His neck, his shoulders, his torso, his back, his buttocks. Tony feels the resistance he took time to build, collapsing under Loki’s hungry fingers. Wanting more, always more.

Steve’s concern, Pepper’s dread, Happy’ scornful expression are all swept away.

Suspicions and innuendos of Natasha? Forgotten.

Fury’ stern eye didn’t affect him anymore, nor the guilt eating him away each time Thor landed on Earth, more tired, sadder than before.

Under the dark sky where the new moon shines by her lack of light, Tony laughs loudly. He surrenders completely to Loki’s embrace. His back bends backwards. The motion brings out most of his skin under his open shirt. Tony’s jacket has been left behind on the grass. His tie, loosened on his neck, is dangling on an erected nipple. Loki’s pant makes Tony smirk.

_It is just a matter of time before the bastard yields._

 

Loki bites savagely his spread throat. Tony’s teeth close on his ear in retaliation. Blood flows on the deity’s white neck, an extraordinary flame burning in his dilated pupils. Excitation throbs in the engineer’s body.

_Even gods bleed._

He pushes Loki from his body, sticks his tongue out at him and runs away. Straight on.

“Tony!”

Tony’s laugh grows louder. He never called him by his name before.

He jumps over benches, scampers between buildings surrounding the old railway bridge. Joy is intoxicating him. Grass tickles his feet. Straight lines on the planks converging to the same direction.

His tie flies in the air to land on the street below him. Wind blows strongly on the deserted and suspended park. It carries with him smooth and cheerful echoes of Loki, teleporting from one point to another. Invisible and omniscient presence. Tony could feel him everywhere, rolling on his hips, bouncing on walls.

He notices green sparks gleaming on the green foliage. Loki would have never allowed anybody to see manifestations of his magic. His green sparks flickering on plants, indicates to Tony many opposite directions to track him. He loses himself to the game. Turning to the right, turning to the left to touch them all while always running forward. Running after Loki.

Manhattan’s West side has never seemed more beautiful for Tony. The two men keep up on racing down the path lit up by discarded magical particles. They leave the Wildflower Field, rest in Chelsea Grasslands to arrive on Diller-Von Furstenberg sundeck. Tony slows down. Buildings are smaller in this area, revealing sky and sea. He leans on the balustrade. Loki’s body materialize behind him, seconds later. Unlike Tony, he isn’t breathless at all. His body gracefully moves to press against him. Loki inspires deeply his hair’s perfume, dishevelled by wind. Tony is shivering when cool lips lay kisses on his neck, right where carotid pulsates in strong beats. He decides to stir his throat to leave more room for him. Loki choices the point of highest blood pressure and nibbles it tenderly.

_It’s gonna leave nice hickeys tomorrow._

Sucking noises seem to deaden city’s sounds in his ears. It’s the only thing Tony could hear. He opens an eye to watch Loki’s pale lips marking their territory on his darker skin. Focus in his gaze, the contrast of black locks on white skin, his blushing cheeks, awaken Tony’s member. He buries his hand in Loki’s hair; way softer than it looks and yanks it with full force, harshly kissing his bare neck. Amusement is glowing in his green pupils. He starts to lick sensually his lips, playing on Tony’s fragile strings. Something snaps inside of his mind. At this instant, he pushes the deity against a wood bench and lies down languidly on him. Tony is the first to initiate languorous kisses. Moans slipping out Loki’s mouth stimulate his vigour. He grunts when the trickster bites his inferior lip, then licks drops of blood dripping from the small wound. Engineer’s hands have finally found their way. They sneak under his partner’s shirt and caress each part of his chest, identifying muscles they could touch. Loki stops his motion with one look. He takes off the frustrating cloth under Tony’s astounded gaze, devouring his smooth-face skin, revealing it bit by bit. Finally, the shirt is discarded.

“You finally decide to _lead_ , mortal?”

Loki undulates his back, rubbing his intimate parts against Tony’s. Staring at him as his thighs spread.

“It’s not easy to stay calm around you.”

His green eyes sparkle.

 

“Come.”

 

Yet a vice-like grip holds Tony back. His hands can’t move anymore. What is he doing? Has he lost his mind? Dancing is a step; enjoying some good times with Loki is another step, making out is dangerous but having sex? Here, in the same city where he still remembers places Pepper and him used to go? Paranoia and guilt he succeeded to refrain during the race, wash over him. His eyes wander everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

_No, not now, don’t panic, for god’ sake! Nobody is watching you!_

His fear increases when Loki’s eyes get colder. The deity slowly nods as if he understands what Tony is thinking. He forcefully takes his arm and purrs:

“Come.”

Suddenly, everything becomes black.

 

 

***

 

 

When Tony opens his eyes, the city had completely disappeared. Huge pine trees had replaced New Yorker towers. Dark woods of conifers are set up gloriously in front of him. Grey grass reaches his thighs. He gaps as he looks at the sky. Tony has never seen such a heap of stars and unknown constellations. In this strange place, full moon reigns.

_Where the fuck did he bring me to?_

“Loki?”

A single murmur is amplified to its peak. Tony feels he is desecrating a sacred place with the mere sound of his voice. He has the distinct impression trees loom closer over him. A rustle in the weed startles him, making him scream.

“Oh my god, I hope it sounded as manly in my ears as outside.” Tony dejectedly quips.

A soft giggle grazes his ears, startling him again. Then, a sinuous path draws itself under his feet. Fear slowly wins over him. And annoyance as well.

 

_Breathe in. And out. Calm, cool. Damn! I hope it’s a joke or I’m going to kill him!_

Plants bend as he walks by and sinks deeper in the woods. His eyes have trouble to adapt for the thick darkness. Sometimes, he fears to trip over something or to lose himself. Yet, as he finds his normal breathing back, he starts to rely much more on his hearing. Trees move aside to disclose a way out leading to a clearing. Tony’s feet are now touching black rocks scattered on the ground. Loki was waiting for him, their clothes attached to his crossed arms, in front of a small hut made of stones. Tony guesses through the Nordic influence in its architecture, they are in Loki’s hideout. The whole place may be a creation of the sorcerer. Now that Tony takes a closer look to his surroundings, he notices that trees, rocks, this starkly beautiful nature erected to dizzy heights remind him of Loki. That realization tingles Tony’s body in excitement. Respect tinged with fear takes control of him. Loki smiles to his subtle signs of submission and awe.

_Yeah, you can be proud, you cheeky bastard! And I’m definitely not jealous of your work!_

The deity opens the door and beckons Tony to come inside. Too politely which Tony finds very suspect.

_Smooth, Stark. You’re on his territory. Don’t play stupid…and don’t forget to not screech like a girl if he traps you._

Tony hesitates but an icy wind slaps his back and he rushes inside, closing the door behind him. Amazement hits him when he turns around. Vegetation had invaded the hut by entering through a huge hole in the roof. Parchment scrolls, books and precious stones cover the floor. Weird markings and symbols decorate the walls of Loki’s hideout, much larger than it looks from the outside. Tony doesn’t dare to make a move. Loki raises an eyebrow in his direction. He was already at the other side of the room, arranging their clothes on a chair next to his bed. Irritated by Tony’s inaction, he sighs:

“We don’t have much time, Tony. Come closer.”

He adds, maliciously:

“Unless you’re too scared.”

Tony glares at him and replies with a cocky grin:

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re far from being scary. I just hope you won’t take a piece of my ass and keep it as a trophy. I would be very flattered of course. I mean, who doesn’t want it?  But I still want it intact.” Tony rambles.

“By the nine, are you always that talkative?”

“You bring the worst out of me.”

Tony moves forward. Once he reaches the room’s centre, bathed in light, Tony tries his best to ignore the abyssal well overhung by planks he walks on. Having knees like jelly, he manages to cross. He identifies water sounds beneath his feet. A river may be flowing under the hut’s foundation. Tony repeats tirelessly meters separating from Loki. Numbers bring him comfort as the certainty he would soon jump on the deity who dares to drag him here. And to inflect upon him such bizarre tests which make no sense at all!

_All the shit I have to put up for him!_

“You should change the decoration. Seriously.” He quips, sarcastic. “I mean, all those holes, here, it sucks.”

“I need to be as closer as possible to nature.” Loki replies, remaining calm.

“Why? Is that a hippie thing? You must feel the cosmos or something like that? For getting vibes and energies, I suppose.”

“You can’t be farther from the truth.”

If Tony could tear out his mocking smile, he would. The problem is that same infuriating smile softens, as Tony gets closer to Loki. He feels the delicious weakness, which had manifested in the car, breaking through once again.

“Next time, warn me when you teleport us in a place I don’t know…”

Loki’s grin widens. He embraces him tightly and whispers in his ear:

“Now, you have no more reason to be afraid.”

The howling wind shakes the entire hut. Trees’ shadows start moving. Tony feels the tremor vibrating the room affecting his bones as well, wrecking his last resistances. He wasn’t in New York anymore but far away from the Avengers, from Pepper. He may be far away from Earth! And that cursed time, which keeps passing by. Then, Tony throws his arms around Loki’s neck. They end on the bed, pushing aside manuscripts lying on the blankets. Far away, in the distance, a beast bayed at the moon. Loki tightens his grip around Tony’s waist as he kisses him ardently.

 

 

***

 

 

Tony finds himself on his back during their surprising sexual activities. Loki, sweating and statuesque is dancing backwards and forwards, completely impaled on his penis. He rules on Tony’s body as he would have ruled on Asgard. Enjoying the power he holds in his hands, tricking all his enemies and allies with the same liveliness while being patient and fastidious. Sensation of hot and tight walls on his member makes Tony hypersensitive. Smell of grass, earth, and wind blowing in the trees. Tony could feel everything on a same level as Loki is keeping him between his strong and wet thighs. He is swallowed in an abyss where the only thing worth seeing is the deity, throwing his head backwards. His face tensing in intense pleasure.

The two men give out guttural screams, shameless whines in the night. Faraway lights emitting from the stars and moon shine on slender Loki’s frame. His white skin puts on silvery reflections. Tony quakes in front of this display.

His belly contracts and untightens in the effort. Jolts, which have shaken him previously, trouble Loki. He opens his eyes. His dilated green pupils graze with emotion the circular scar on his chest. Ghost of the arc reactor. Tony abruptly becomes aware of how much time has passed by. Few years before, the scar was gushing red, skin surrounding it used to be deformed by stitches. All threads were gone now. Though his skin has gotten smoother, it would never be the same. It became another physical imperfection. Proof of passing years on his body. Tony is feeling small when he gazes upon Loki’s perfect skin, devoid of rough patches.

Sky above his head looks immoderate, overwhelming him in his coldness. How can you explain? That breath-taking power, unbothered by time’s flow, softly cradling him. Loki, probably struck by a whim, had taken him away from his ephemeral earth to the highest places. Where everything is put into perspective. Where you could discover how worthy things truly are. His fragile human condition looks much more beautiful up there in Tony’s eyes, for he realizes he keeps fighting in a universe which could destroy him. In a glimpse.

Loki brings his forehead closer to his, his white hand lying on his scar as their hips sway against each other faster and faster. His partner’s lips fly from his cheek to land on his other. Then they nibble the arc reactor’s imprint. Loki sucks reverently his skin forever damaged.

Tony swallows. A lightning strikes his limbs. Two orgasms shake the pair, seconds apart. White and creamy drops splash Loki’s anal walls, his belly and Tony’s. 

 

They catch their breath. Loki falls down on him. It would have been impossible to determine which arm or leg belongs to as they kiss fervently. Time flies by as the two sleepy men hug their naked bodies. At last, dawn shows its warm colours in the sky. Tony breaks the silence with a husky whisper:

“It’s over.”

Loki says nothing but stiffens. He gets up with a blank expression on his face. Tony’s bites and hickeys are already vanishing on his skin. In one motion, Loki picks up his clothes. His green and golden asgardian outfit is slowly recovering his body as Tony holds his breath. Loki refuses to face him so he decides to start getting dressed. Once he finishes to adjust his tie, he pats the deity’s shoulder, noticing his clenched fists.

“Come on Loki, let’s go.”

Hearing his name from Tony’s mouth soothe the tension displayed on his face. Both of them leave in a gust of wind.

 

 

***

 

 

Happy jerks when Tony knocks on the windowpane. He opens it and sees Loki standing behind. Obviously waiting for Tony to end what he needs to do.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping Hap’! You almost made me regret to give you a raise.”

He pats his head jokingly.

“Are we leaving soon, Boss?” He asks in a slurry voice.

“Soon! In a few minutes, it will be enough to do yourself up.”

Tony turns around and faces Loki. He watches his rigid frame; there is no twitch of a muscle, no expression on the deity’s body. What could he be expecting? Tony walks clumsily in his direction, million of thoughts swirling in his head. What can he say? Is there something specific Loki wants? And more importantly, what does Tony want from him? He has finally crossed the last distance to reach Loki, as he had always desired before, to unravel his whole mystery, to get closer to the unknown. But now…

_Now, I don’t know what is the next move. I feel I have learnt something very important but at the time I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. Are we playing another game? Or have I already lost it?_

The deity keeps staring at him. His fingers fidget once Tony raises his head and smiles tiredly at him.

_I will deal with this mess. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is always better._

 

Then, Tony decides he will settle with a:

 

“Thank you.”

 

Loki’s lips grow thinner. In a blink, he is already gone. Tony feels suddenly something shifting and disappearing inside of his chest, feeling lighter, too lighter for his own good.

“You think he will come back, Boss?”

Tony shrugs and adds with exasperated gestures:

“Who knows? That diva can do whatever she wants.”

He climbs inside the car. Happy doesn’t insist but closes the door gently. Tony casts a last glance to the High-Line and far beyond it, to that secret place. Sun rises higher in the sky. In a short instant, Tony catches a glimpse of green eyes sparkling in his reflection. He falls asleep, smiling.

 

 

Sometimes, in his dreams, he would see giant and dark trees; feel cold water splashing on his feet and hear words coming from the wind. Sometimes he swears they are echoes of Loki’s laughter lost in space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walking on the High-Line is a special wish I have. If I ever go to New-York, it's one of the first places I want to visit. Here some musics which inspire me for this chapter:
> 
> -Babel by Mumford and Sons (for the race)  
> -Shadow of the Colossus soundtrack  
> -God bless the child by Billie Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Here some musics which inspired me :
> 
> -La valse à mille temps by Jacques Brel  
> -Crazy world by Julie Andrews  
> -The chain by Fleetwood Mac  
> -Vous qui passez sans me voir by Charles Trenet  
> -Nantes by Beirut  
> -Every day is yours to win by R.E.M


End file.
